


i heard the stars singing (and it was your name)

by aerialbots



Series: transcendence [4]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Music, Gen, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:50:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerialbots/pseuds/aerialbots
Summary: It takes time for gravity to do its work.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Atalan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalan/gifts).



> You've got to admit sharing a birthday is a pretty good reason to write someone birthday fic. Feliz cumpleaños, Lena. (And happy birthday to myself as well, I guess.)

It happens a few days after Skyfire's thirteenth birthday, tucked almost distractedly into the last weeks of the year. It's raining, which Skyfire enjoys, and the twins dropped him off early, which he doesn't really mind one way or another. He has a book, and a bottle of water, and his warmest jumper with the Starfleet insignia on it in case he gets cold; he isn't exactly high maintenance for a newly teenaged boy.

There is a new kid in class.

Skyfire knows he can't be younger than ten -- it's the minimum age required to be in Ms Marine's advanced group -- and while he himself is tall enough for his age, he has a chronic case of what Jetstorm delights in calling 'the babyface', no matter how much Skyfire groans and scowls and demands uncle Overcast tell him he's wrong whenever he's around, so he isn't exactly one to go around throwing any stones in the age department.

The boy hesitating at the door looks _tiny_ , though, and it's not even about how skinny he is -- though he definitely fits that bill, as well as the 'short' one -- but rather the way he holds himself. Everything about his body language screams of the deepest regret for every choice that has led him to this moment, this situation, and possibly this one specific classroom, if the wide-eyed looks he's giving the older kids is anything to go by -- which, considering how save for Skyfire the youngest of them is fifteen already, is not such an unreasonable reaction.

He does have to wonder, however, how the boy managed to get accepted for intensive lessons if he's that skittish around older people.

Ms Marine turns from where she's talking to one of the older students, likely feeling the young boy's slightly desperate gaze from where he stands frozen in the doorway like a deer in the headlights, and her imperious expression softens ever-so-slightly in a way that makes at least three other students blatantly stare. She beckons him in, laying a delicate hand over his shoulder to steer him close even as she waves everyone else towards their seats, and Skyfire misses whatever conversation takes place between them in favour of putting his things away into his bag.

It's harder to miss the tap on his shoulder, however.

The room is arranged in six neatly ordered rows of four pianos each, one pair to each side with a wide walking space between each set. Volant and Counterpoint are not here today, so it's not like Skyfire is the only option around for a partner. He doesn't ever sit with someone else if he can help it.

"Do you mind if I sit here, please?", the boy asks anyway, completely clueless to the unspoken agreement between Skyfire and everyone else not to bother each other. He doesn't stammer, but it's a near thing, and his hands are clutching the folder with the music sheets everyone gets upon starting maybe a bit less gently than would be advisable. A couple of the older kids glance their way, although Skyfire has no idea what their expressions are supposed to mean.

He nods once, and says, "That's okay."

 

 

Years after the fact, Skyfire cannot, for the life of him, recall at what point they'd introduced themselves to each other, though he remembers enough to feel moderately confident that Silverbolt was likely the one who started it all.

Fragments of that first day stay with him, however, years and years after: the younger boy stealing glances at his jumper for almost twenty minutes before daring to show Skyfire his Enterprise-shaped pencil sharpener, and the ten of excited chatter that followed until Ms Marine directed the full force of her Eloquent Eyebrows at them; Silverbolt's near-unintelligible class notes, written in some ungodly mix of English and Spanish (Portuguese, in fact, or so he learns later) with the odd Japanese character thrown on the side, all of it in the messiest handwriting to ever disgrace the planet; the hesitant look on his face as he offered Skyfire one of his snacks, and the pleasant surprise that replaced it once Skyfire rummaged through the pockets of his bag until he found a chocolate bar for them to share.

Hearing him play for the first time is the clearest of them all.

It's a nocturne the class has been practicing for almost three weeks, enough so that they're all more or less sick of both hearing and playing it, but it doesn't stop any of them from flat-out stopping to stare and listen, and as nervous as Silverbolt has been so far, he doesn't even seem to notice everyone looking at them as his fingers move almost sweetly against the keys of the piano.

Ms Marine, never much one for unearned praise, nods once and moves onto Skyfire with a brief smile and a "Well done” for the younger boy, and it's only a lifetime of etiquette lessons and nine classes playing the same song that keep Skyfire from getting distracted by staring at Silverbolt as if he's just fallen out of the Enterprise himself.

 

 

"My parents are both musicians", Silverbolt confesses two hours later, swinging his feet under the bench as they wait to be picked up. "Mum's recording an album so she can't keep doing our lessons right now, and dad's busy with rehearsals for the Christmas concerts." He grins, fleeting and playful, "Plus he's not very good at piano."

Skyfire smiles back, if maybe not quite so widely, and offers in return, "My brothers both play it already. They're the ones who bring me to class."

"I have brothers too!", Silverbolt says excitedly, sitting up a little. "I'm the oldest of the five. Air Raid and Skydive are here too, but their class finishes in half an hour, so I have to wait for them so dad can pick us up. Fireflight's still too little for lessons here, but we're teaching him guitar when we finish homework early, and Slingshot fell off a tree and broke his arm so he can't play right now."

Skyfire, having never been up in a tree himself, finds this information slightly alarming. The conversation quickly derails into a story of mortal peril, courageous six year olds, and fallen baby birds (of both the literal and human variety), which Skyfire is suitably impressed by, and leads to telling Silverbolt about the recently-acquired fishtank in the kitchen with its twelve lobsters named Baby.

"--I mean, I tried doing some research, but it's not exactly easy to keep a not-yet-domesticated lobster still long enough to try to figure out if it's a boy lobster or a girl lobster", Skyfire is saying, "so I figured I might as well give them all bows, and maybe not worry so much if the vet keeps saying they really don't need to be vaccinated."

The receptionist has to shush them twice before the twins come pick Skyfire up, but it's worth making Silverbolt laugh.

 

 

It took Skyfire three years to build and maintain his reputation as a quiet, reserved kid; Silverbolt completely destroys it in less than three weeks.

As shy as he was that first day of class, it takes him about five lessons to charm his way into everyone's good graces once he relaxes, and being almost half the age of several of their classmates doesn't seem to deter him from striking a conversation with anyone. The older kids in the group seem to find him endearing enough not to resent him for his skill, which is how Skyfire somehow ends up getting dragged into animated discussions about Saturday morning cartoons and centuries-old rivalries between long-dead composers with people he has successfully avoided for a third of a decade, and actually _enjoying_ himself.

It's not so much that he minds it, really, but rather that he's a little nonplussed by how much he _doesn't_. Then again, Silverbolt seems to have a talent for making everything feel easier.

They strike up a routine as easily and swiftly as they become friends. The two of them sit together in class, and during the half-hour break, to wait to be picked up after lessons. The twins are usually quite punctual to pick him up, but they don't mind hanging around a couple of minutes while Silverbolt finishes telling him a story, and Skyfire likes Air Raid and Skydive well enough the handful of times Silverbolt arrives earlier than usual and he gets to see them all before class, even if they're clearly as childish as Silverbolt isn't.

Skyfire likes Fridays best not so much for the weekend, but because theirs is the last class in the afternoons, and on those days Ms Marine lets them stay practicing a little longer if they want to.

What Silverbolt lacks in technical proficiency he makes up for with sheer natural talent, and can be mostly blamed on his age, and by the time January rolls by, playing with him has become one of Skyfire's favourite parts of his week.

 

 

It's probably as heartbreaking when it ends for how simple it seemed when it started.

 

 

Silverbolt stops coming to class in October, almost a year after they meet for the first time, and only a few weeks before Skyfire's fourteenth birthday. He worries a little the first time he misses class, but figures he's ill and will be back by the end of the week.

He isn't, though, neither that week nor any of the ones that follow, and neither Ms Marine nor Air Raid, Skydive, and Slingshot's teacher have any information to offer him. Skyfire doesn't know Silverbolt's phone number, or his address. He was going to ask, had already requested the twins for him to join the three of them for Skyfire's birthday, and they'd agreed more than happily, only reminding him they'd need to tell Silverbolt's parents first. They were going to the planetarium Saturday morning.

There's no one left to ask, though, and if Skyfire is a little more clingy than becomes a fourteen year old for a couple of weeks, neither of his brothers are of a mind to mention it.

 

 

He stops taking piano lessons somewhere in April. He tells his parents he's not interested anymore, but frankly, with his brothers gone he can't bear making the trip home on his own.

 

 

There's a lot of ways to prepare oneself for university, but Skyfire's pretty sure there's nothing in the world that could prepare any human being for Skywarp.

It's nice having friends again, though, even if he's fairly sure out of the lot of them, Cosmos is the only normal one -- himself included.

 

 

It ends, because all things do, and it ends... _poorly_ , to put it mildly, because that's how his life seems to go, but at least this time around he's smart enough to have asked everyone's number before it does.

It could’ve been worse, really. At least Starscream cared enough to try to sell it to him as _“it’s not you, it’s me.”_

(It takes him almost a week to reply to Skywarp's increasingly anxious texts; a week, and twice a fresh onslaught of tears, and even then he can't muster enough energy to reply to Thundercracker. There's a knock on the front door less than an hour later, though, two familiar, worried faces distorted through the peephole. 

It's enough.)

 

  

His parents are disappointed when he announces his decision to change courses after the end of the year, which is really his own fault for being so inexperienced his first breakup is enough to send him into an embarrassingly early mid-life crisis. Jetfire and Jetstorm take it as easily as they do any of his choices, though they all have to sit through yet another emotionally significant Conversation(tm) before the twins are reassured Skyfire is not about to ditch school in a fit of angst and flee for a random hut in the outskirts of Paris in which to drink himself to a melodramatic, liver-troubled death halfway through the semester.

Skywarp thinks it's 'totally stupid', but that's really just Skywarp for 'I don't want you to do it', and Skyfire sort of deserves it for disappearing on him all those weeks ago. TC does that eyebrow raise that means he's trying (and failing) not to psychoanalyse you, but promises to help with damage control for Skywarp and the screaming fit Starscream is bound to have once he finds out about the news, because while dumping his best friend and boyfriend out of some incomprehensible, distorted sense of duty is apparently embarrassing enough for him to give Skyfire the space to heal in his own time, none of them are under the slightest illusion that this will hold under pressure -- which really just means 'thinking Skyfire is doing something stupid'.

Cosmos, beautiful, gentle, _sensible_ Cosmos just drags Skyfire out of the house for breakfast once a week, and makes up wildly dramatic stories for oblivious passersby that make him laugh so hard he's pretty much become used to the feeling of choking on air, coffee, or his own food at least once before nine in the morning.

 

 

It's almost natural, is the thing.

It's the most competitive ambient Skyfire's ever been willingly subjected to, which is a lot to say considering he just switched from Engineering, but in a way that just adds to his enjoyment of it. He's _good_ with music, even if he's only kept up practice by himself, and probably without as much discipline as Ms Marine would probably have liked.

His classmates are nice, in a slightly ruthless sort of way, but that suits Skyfire just fine. He already has friends; he doesn't need to make any new ones.

 

 

(He does end up making a friend anyway, somehow -- or most accurately, the friend makes _him_.

Blades is young enough she shouldn't be yet admitted into the conservatory, and determined enough she'd steamrolled her way into extremely early admission anyway, if maybe not as a degree student proper. She hangs around until late, whatever the case, a guitar slung over her shoulder and the world's longest braid swishing behind her back, and she's the absolute _judgiest_ person Skyfire has ever had the pleasure to meet. He both dreads and delights in the thought of her ever meeting Starscream, except he kind of doesn't want to bring about the end of the world, so they reserve themselves to eating lunch together and trying to one-up each other with whatever they're learning in their courses. It's nice.)

 

 

He graduates with honours, because it never even occurs to him that there is an alternative not to, and he can never figure out who cheers louder when he receives his diploma -- the twins, Skywarp, or Blades. They all pile into their multitude of vehicles after the ceremony, regardless, and get dinner and drinks (the latter of which Blades should technically _still_ not be having, but none of them are brave enough to try and stop her, and it only takes one shot of tequila before she's making a face and asking for some soda, much to Cosmos' sympathetic amusement) at some ridiculously edgy place Thundercracker swears by.

He's not entirely wrong, but that doesn't stop the words 'artisanal potato' from becoming an inside joke for the rest of their lives.

He and Starscream have started getting along again for a good while now, which is probably what makes the way he and Jetstorm are glaring daggers at each other even while trying to both out-drink _and_ out-polite one another over their ridiculous hipstery food so fucking funny, and the look on their faces whenever Skyfire can't contain his laughter only makes it seem even more hilarious -- though, to be fair, all the alcohol everyone keeps shoving at him has probably got something to do with it too.

 

 

Skyfire gets the email about three months after graduation, stuck in the middle of Moving Hell and trying to navigate the jungle of boxes that are passing as his new living room.

It's from one of his ex-teachers, who apparently met with an old colleague yesterday, and learnt her company is looking for a piano accompanist for a concert series in the next few months. His first thought, he says, was to recommend Skyfire.

He replies with his very formal thanks, as well as his agreement to meet with the company manager, and then rummages through one specific box, eventually pulls out something suitably pillow-shaped, and proceeds to screech into it until he feels a little less like he's about to have a heart attack.

 

 

Good news is he gets the job.

Bad news is he has to sit through three hours of the twins' jokes about their baby being 'all grown up and famous' while they have dinner.

 

 

Cold weather usually starts in October, which is why Skyfire feels more than a little attacked when he opens his front door and is practically slapped in the face by the goddamn arctic winds.

Today is his first meeting with the person he'll be playing with -- something of a music prodigy, or so he’s been told -- and he doesn't particularly fancy looking like he just lost a fight with a very aggressive blow-dryer, but by the time he gets to his car he realises he's probably not going to get much of a choice. In any case, he reasons, most classical musicians usually look like they lost a fight with both a hair dryer _and_ the bottom of a bin at the local thrift store, so at least his clothes will look as sensible as his hair refuses to be.

There's a fluttery feeling in his chest the entire drive to the auditorium they'll be practicing in, though he can't for the life of him figure out _what_ has got him so nervous. He's already got the job, and it's literally impossible for whoever he ends up working with to be more difficult to deal with than Starscream in a mood -- or, stars help him, Serenata and Sandstone from Blades' class.

He gets to the auditorium without incident, regardless, and is kindly directed towards the main room by a slightly harried-looking woman, who introduces herself as the manager and promises to hold a proper conversation with him once he gets whoever is on the other side of the phone line to stop being 'such a minecart-riding business sheep', which is definitely an expletive he hadn't heard before.

Thankfully the right room isn't that hard to locate with directions, and Skyfire makes his way to the end of the wide, high-ceiling corridor feeling increasingly as though his heart is climbing up his throat.

Faintly, as though softly straining from the stars, he can hear a voice singing.

Skyfire takes a breath, and opens the door.

**Author's Note:**

> [Epilogue.](https://68.media.tumblr.com/1b4d05b5f668f54e09618c94ca8fb0ad/tumblr_onbb4imzr61w15nr1o1_540.png)
> 
>  
> 
> [Soundtrack.](https://open.spotify.com/user/aerialbots/playlist/4pMsp3QX8icYqk2VQ2XViL)


End file.
